28 August 2013

Chapter 58 - The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)


LVIII

Do you think any other life form in all of creation
Is as ludicrously self-absorbed as humanity?

* * * *
All pain is born of existence,
Of the illusion of time and space,
Of the separation created
Solely in imagination.

* * * *
How can the unborn ever grow old?

* * * *
How do I know what I know?
The same way you do.

* * * *
One day the dream will be over,
And you will not even know it.

* * * *
You must see what you cannot see
To comprehend what you truly see.

* * * *
The notion that you are an individual
Is what hinders the unborn realization
That you are in fact indivisibly one
With its inherent liberation.

* * * *
It is not what the scribe knows he is which counts
As much as what he knows you are as well.

* * * *
What is any one’s dreamtime universe but what
Is seen, heard, touched, tasted and smelled,
And altogether that which you imagine
Into remembering and forgetting
As consciousness dictates.

* * * *
These word are a single-minded conspiracy
To somehow inspire consciousness
Toward an intuitive paradigm
Beyond the linear confabulations
Humanity’s mind has up to now played out.

* * * *
The other has the frame of reference you give it.

* * * *
You are the immortal playing out mortal fare.

* * * *
Does the reality require
The veiled dream of consciousness
To sustain its true nature?
Nah.

* * * *
How else could godness witness creation
But through manifest eyes?

* * * *
All your life you have created
Everything your universe entails.

* * * *
What is the body, really, but a vehicle,
An absorbing, filtration, waste disposal unit,
A energy machine directed by mind and senses?

* * * *
You are that which is godness, a very simple, reverent fact.
If you seek a more complex answer, reason or purpose,
It is a free will choice born of ignorance and a desire
For unceasing complexity, division and suffering.

* * * *
The unfolding is fluid, timeless, indivisible,
Interrupted only by the boundaries of the mind
Caught in the individual web of sensory experience.

* * * *
What conditions do you place upon your universe?

* * * *
The cockroaches will dance upon our grandest tombs
With nary a though of historical meaning and purpose.

* * * *
Judging another sets you apart from the stream.

* * * *
How many times have you asked yourself
What the point of all this is?

* * * *
What is it to “be” effortlessly?

* * * *
What is the no-mind mind,
The solid which is space,
The space which is solid,
The reality which is dream,
The dream which is reality?

* * * *
The dream woven with desire
Inevitably tandems with many passions.

* * * *
All your divisions leave you incomplete.

* * * *
What a fascinating mutation the human species is.

* * * *
Let consciousness roam where it will
And, sooner or later, it will inevitably breed
Confusion, division and suffering.

* * * *
What born of time can ever be preserved?
That which is boundless, neither made nor unmade,
Is the Self-evident firmament prior to all limited illusory notions
Played out in the ageless weavings of consciousness.

* * * *
At the center of the wheel is the witness, solitary and serene,
Gazing out upon the spinning kaleidoscope of dreamtime.
It is the knower of the ground, the eye of all eyes,
Untouched, detached, free, resolutely still
Amid the tempest of the illusion of space-time,
Journey the passionate carousel or seek genesis,
It is the free will choice of the mind choicelessly aware.

* * * *
You do not need scientific proof or expertise
To point out the obvious?

* * * *
Each of us wanders through space-time
Protecting our bodies, our things, our egos.
Few ever realize how little is truly possessed,
That all experiencing is akin to the sands of time
Steadily rushing through the neck of the hourglass
No matter how it is twisted, how it is turned.

* * * *
Far easier to indoctrinate a complex lie
Than it is to point out the simple truth.

* * * *
You are that eye am.

* * * *
Those satisfied with symbols, rituals and traditions
Are like children fascinated with shiny baubles
Of no real significance but to narrow minds
Caught in the murky mayhem of time.

* * * *
The elixir of time can begin so sweetly,
Yet how often it ends such a bitter brew.
What strength to harvest contentment
No matter the storms of life’s passing.

* * * *
To value only human life is the poppycock
Of conceited ethnocentric thinking.

* * * *
Only through overt manifestation
Can the dream occur at any level of creation.
Even the most ethereal celestial planes of beingness
Are subject to one binding parameter or another.

* * * *
What happens to this universe or any other dream state
Is the concern of clay figurines attached to the illusory matrix.
In sense-bound ignorance, they tumble in the ageless waves of time,
Never discerning the oneness prior to the onslaught of delusion.

* * * *
Thought bubbles through the maze of consciousness
Caught in the many devices of its own creation,
Unable to discern a resurrection to reality
But through a selfless destruction.

* * * *
The maze, the wheel, the kaleidoscope
And every other analogy ever concocted
Are all in your head.

* * * *
Discern the strength and insight
To die while still living.

* * * *
Though the wheel of life spins and spins,
The revolution is the now never born.

* * * *
In every tale there is an assumption, a foundation,
A keystone without which the dream cannot be built.

* * * *
Time passes far more quickly at the outer edge of the spin
Than at the stillness of the unknown center point of oblivion.

* * * *
Look to the sins of humanity’s passing to discern your plight
And the paradigm necessary to continue your seed line.
Learn the errors of history or fade into the oblivion
Much sooner than time’s dream need allow.

* * * *
Everyone in this realm abides the same bodily functions.
There is nothing to be proud or embarrassed about.
Vanity is humanity’s most ludicrous aspect.
Most bodies are quite grotesque
At one moment or another.

* * * *
Where light has no entry,
Neither does it have an exit.
This clarity the known can never discern.

* * * *
What makes sense often makes no sense,
And what makes no sense is often
The greatest sense of all.

* * * *
These writings merely reflect that
Which needs no confirmation.

* * * *
You are truly beyond all want.

* * * *
As this realm is imagined,
So are all others.

* * * *
The morticians probably laugh
At your darkest secrets.

* * * *
Greater and greater
The detachment grows
As tie after tie is discerned
And knot after knot cut.

* * * *
Work through whatever it is
You think there is to work through
To find that requiring no effort whatsoever.

* * * *
Embrace or reject these sundry thoughts as you will,
There is naught but a dream no matter the varied opinions.

* * * *
Greet both success and failure with the same detachment.
They pass the same when given impersonal weight.

* * * *
Current events are never truly current,
Merely effects of causes and causes of effects.
History creates the dream and the freedom nowness allows
Is ignored by the masses so easily hypnotized
In time’s countless sideshows.

* * * *
Each of us views a kaleidoscoping light show
Through a personal screen of perceived experience.
No dream is truly superior than any other,
Though perhaps some are more
Clearly perceived.

* * * *
Truth is very simple, but it is not infantile.

* * * *
All riddles are answered intuitively.

* * * *
Dogma is not as joyous as so many
Would deceive themselves into believing.
There is a passionate madness which is not
The divine madness alluded to herein.
It is the irrational nature of individualism
Taken to endless extremes by limited minds.

* * * *
Peaceful resolution to this world’s divisive condition
May seem many millenniums away, but its seed potential
Will be same now it has ever been and will ever be.
It is the realization of the choiceless choice
Born of the unborn, duality’s light show
Played out in the unitary movement
From which all creation springs.

* * * *
There is no discussing any subject
With someone who cannot investigate
Their myriad assumptions dispassionately.
They cite historical texts, experts and collectives,
Shield themselves with fearful, convincing persuasion,
And self-righteously judge all those who would dare question
Until negation sifts every doubt imagination might pose.

* * * *
Even the devil is godness.
Those who in confused ignorance
Separate themselves from the beingness
In which consciousness plays out the illusion of time.

* * * *
The war between good and evil
Is one waged entirely in imagination.
Their reality is as unsustainable
As anything ever concocted
Within the dreams of time.

* * * *
Those who truly see godness
Find it everywhere.

* * * *
Before Abraham, Jesus, Buddha,
Lao Tzu, and all the others,
You are that I am.

* * * *
God is all, and that means you, as well.

* * * *
No soul is lost,
Maybe just confused for a time.

* * * *
The flame is the fuel’s potential,
The destiny into which all is consumed.

* * * *
You enjoy the wave of consciousness in its graceful crest,
But its inevitable ruin is wrought with suffering.
Attachment to either is the pain.

* * * *
You are one rolled into all destinies
And all destinies rolled into one.

* * * *
Dogma is as harsh and unforgiving
As a desert beneath a perpetual sun.

* * * *
Do you want it, do you need it?
Do you only think you want or need it?
So many threads of habit we are attached to
Without profound introspective awareness as to why.

* * * *
Is joy a product of vain consciousness,
Or from that which is prior to the conceptual patter,
The theatre of dreamtime surrounding the indivisible seed?

* * * *
There are clues everywhere,
Seers in every realm.

* * * *
We are so easily distracted
But what is so unimportant.

* * * *
Are you happy, are you sad?
Would you even notice
If not for the discomfort of both?

* * * *
Physical manifestation can never really resolve
The fundamental friction of its inherent duality.

* * * *
Perception is interpreted by the mind conditioned in time.
No snowflake is ever seen the same in two different minds.

* * * *
Humanity documents its vanity as if it will last forever,
But the manifest world is not that which is eternal.
Prior to all concept is that without beginning
And after all words is that never ending.
All forms are temporal permutations,
Creation ever dissolving in time.

* * * *
It is the spontaneous dreaming of the senses
Which you have absolutely no real say over,
And  to which you can only resist or surrender.

* * * *
Good and evil, like all dualistic notions
Are born of imagination’s delusional sojourn.

* * * *
The child, a sponge of the senses,
Observes in timeless, surrendering wonder
As surrounding concepts imprint upon its awareness
A personality-identity to which it will subscribe
For the remainder of its vain existence.

* * * *
Oneness is not without the other
To witness its illusory reflection.

* * * *
You are reading this because you have managed
To survive the many challenges and chances
Of your conscious journey thus far.
Why?
Is the impossible question.

* * * *
Free will and choice are among
The many catechisms of delusion.

* * * *
Do you really want to go
                                               Where most self-proclaimed leaders                                 
Will probably be more than pleased to lead you?
Be very cautious who you follow.


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The Stillness Before Time (Compendium)
© Michael J. Holshouser 2009
World Rights Reserved